


Just Listen To Me

by LeafyGreenQueen773



Series: NaNoWriMo 2018 [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Blowjobs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Peter Parker, Peter Gets Overwhelmed With Sensory Input, Peter is eighteen, Peter's Senses Are Dialed To Eleven, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Precious Peter Parker, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 02:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16778110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafyGreenQueen773/pseuds/LeafyGreenQueen773
Summary: After the spider bite, Peter's senses are "dialed to eleven."  That includes in bed.  Peter talks Tony through what feels best to him.  (Lots of fluff and smut.)





	Just Listen To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Peter is eighteen; this is post-Hoco but Infinity War didn't happen (because I don't like to feel things).
> 
> Please leave comments! This was done in a bit of a rush for NaNoWriMo so I apologize for any typos and awkward bits.

Peter broke off the rough kiss, gasping a little at the way that Tony was manhandling him. They'd only been at this for a few minutes, but with Peter's super-senses, he felt like Tony was rubbing him raw. It felt more like chafing than a handjob.

Not exactly very sexy.

“Okay, okay, you...you gotta stop,” Peter managed with some difficulty. He straightened up from his position on the bed, dislodging Tony from on top of him as he went. Although Tony was more heavily muscled and weighed more than Peter did due to his stockier build, Peter could easy move Tony wherever he wanted. He could lift ten tons; Tony Stark was just a warm, sweet weight in comparison.

Tony settled back on his heels and frowned, letting go of Peter instantly and holding his hands in the air for good measure. “What's wrong?” Tony asked, not unreasonably.

Shit. Tony's expression was so sweet, and so desperate to make Peter feel good. Peter instantly felt guilt shiver up into his stomach. “No, no, nothing's wrong,” he said quickly. He shoved his sweaty hair off his forehead and ran his fingers through his thick locks. It felt like they'd been at it for hours, although it was probably less than half of one since they'd started making out (and more). Still, Peter was starting to feel exhausted.

Tony didn't move, didn't lower his hands from their surrendering position. He tilted his head slowly to the side, going further into a pitch as Peter took longer and longer to elaborate. Finally, he swallowed, looking far too uncertain and disheveled to play the part of the cool billionaire. “Did you not like what I was doing?”

Oh, no. Peter could hear the hit to Tony's self-esteem in the man's voice. “No, look, it's not like I didn't enjoy it,” Peter answer hastily. “I really did. It's just that...yeah, it got a little too overwhelming.” He gestured down to his own skin below the belt, which seemed a little bit red and angry.

Tony's hands fell from the air and landed on his own thighs. “Shit, I...what do you want me to do? Or are you not...are you not interested in continuing?” His voice got even smaller. “Did I ruin it?”

Peter rolled his eyes and sat forward more, closing the small gap between him and his decades-older mentor. “Don't get all shy. You didn't ruin anything, okay? Where's that cockiness you normally have?”

Tony blinked. “Probably somewhere in my straight persona.”

“Look at me,” Peter sighed. “All you have to do is just listen to me, okay? Let me tell you how I like you to touch me.” He talked through the uncertainty on Tony's face, gently taking Tony's hands into his own and leaning back as he went. “Let me tell you how good it feels when you touch me.”

Tony easily slid back over Peter, though Peter could tell that the man was tense, an inch over Peter rather than lying on top of him. Still, the billionaire's eyes were reverent, as though he couldn't imagine being anywhere else, with anyone else, despite all the lovers he was rumored to have had, despite all the parties he had attended over the years. This, this quite lovemaking on a full-sized bed in Peter's dingy Queens apartment, was the most important thing that ever was, or could ever be.

“Start by kissing me,” Peter instructed softly. Then, so as to show Tony that he trusted him, Peter closed his eyes and waited.

A long moment later, warm lips met his with a tentative pressure. They were soft in the middle. Slightly dry around the edges. Peter chased away the dryness with his own lips, moistening Tony's mouth with just a little bit of tongue. The billionaire seemed to relax into it, until the kiss had the steady ebb and flow of adoration.

Peter could already feel his body gaining interest again. Heat slowly pooled in his groin, reminding him of his sensitive, raw-feeling skin, but dampening the sting of it at the same time.

“Okay,” Peter breathed, and Tony's kisses slowed to a stop obediently. “Now bring your kisses lower. You know how sensitive my neck and ears are?”

Tony breathed a small chuckle. “I remember.”

“It feels mind-blowing when you give them attention with your mouth.”

Peter could hear Tony swallowing thickly. “Noted.” Then the man on top of him shifted slightly, and suddenly Peter could feel warm, wet lips on his earlobe. The lips gently pulled Peter's earlobe inside Tony's mouth. Sharp teeth lightly pinched the flesh. A spark of arousal skittered down Peter's body, and his spine arched uncontrollably.

Kisses began trailing down Peter's neck. “So responsive,” Tony murmured. “So good for me. Sometimes I forget you're so young, with all that maturity and intelligence. But then your body does stuff like _that_.” Tony accentuated the word by pinching Peter's other earlobe between his teeth, and Peter gasped and grabbed the sheets as a spurt of precum leaked out of him. “And I remember that I get to make love to an eighteen-year-old. I must be the luckiest man in the galaxy.”

Peter smiled as Tony's kisses started peppering down the other side of his neck, towards his collarbone. “Unless I am.”

“Hmm. I get a gorgeous twink and the most brilliant college student in the United States, who also happens to have an impeccable moral code and puts saving innocent people above pretty much anything else. You get to have a crusty old man who used to make WMDs in exchange for exorbitant wealth.”

Tony's tone was joking, but Peter could feel the real insecurity behind his words, and he opened his eyes to look up into Tony's blue ones. “Don't sell yourself short, Iron Man,” Peter said pointedly, and reached up to pull his mentor down into a soft, honest kiss. He ran his hands through Tony's hair, which was slightly stiff with product but still soft and thick, and dragged his short fingernails across the back of Tony's scalp. A small moan escaped Tony's mouth.

“Tell me,” the billionaire breathed. “Tell me what to do next.”

“Keep using your mouth. On my chest.”

Tony's lips left Peter's and suddenly Tony's face was gone as the man sank lower on Peter's body. A thrill of anticipation shuddered through him as he felt Tony's breath ghost over his nipple. Then Tony took the sensitive nub into his mouth and hollowed his cheeks.

It was as though a chain of light connected these points in Peter's body – his earlobes, his chest, his groin, and his brain. He arched again, perhaps more powerfully, though he was nowhere near tapping into his super strength, as the light sparkled up and down his spine and simultaneously lit up his mind and his crotch. The groan that started low in his chest came out as a whimper.

Tony released his nipple. “Too much?”

“No, God no,” Peter managed. “Keep...keep doing that.” His eyes found a spec on the ceiling to focus on while Tony's mouth went back to its work on his chest. Peter fisted the sheets, trying not to embarrass himself. Sure, he was far younger than Tony, and that had its advantages. He rarely had to worry about not being able to get an erection, or about his recovery time. But he still sometimes felt his own self-consciousness about how he came across in bed. Especially when Tony had had so many other lovers.

Tony's tongue licked a long strip from Peter's left nipple to his right one. Peter felt another dribble of warm precum drip onto his skin; he couldn't help but groan again. His mentor seemed to take it as encouragement. Tony's rough fingers reached up and gently worked Peter's exposed, wet nipple while he licked and nibbled at the other. The sensation connected all of Peter's pleasure centers.

Pressure was starting to build in his pelvis, despite being untouched since Tony had worked him raw the first time.

“Okay, okay,” Peter gasped, and was almost surprised to hear how light his voice sounded. “Lower, lower, please.”

Tony pressed a chaste kiss to Peter's sternum. “Can you be more specific, dear?” he responded.

Peter hesitated for a moment. He and Tony had been together a handful of times, but one thing they had somehow avoided doing was giving head. Peter had almost done it to Tony in a stuck elevator before Tony had pointed out the camera; he'd almost done it to Tony again in the back of Tony's car, but a cop had taken that _extremely_ inconvenient moment to decide to pull Happy over for having a taillight out. Tony had quickly addressed the police officer with his incredible charm, but the moment had gone away until they burst into Tony's room twenty minutes later and got straight to Peter lying face-first in a pile of pillows with Tony in his ass.

In fact, Peter had never received oral in his life.

Tony was obediently waiting for instruction.

“Could you...” Peter started, suddenly far less authoritative than he'd meant to be, “Could you...you know...go...down...?”

Tony raised one eyebrow. “Go down...on your cock, I'm guessing you want to say?”

The groan that came out of Peter's mouth sounded inhuman. “If you don't...I mean, if that's...”

It seemed that Tony didn't need Peter to babble incoherently anymore to get the message. He slid himself lower on Peter's frame, took Peter's sensitive member in his hand, and licked the precum right off the head.

Peter could have died on the spot. He threw his head back into the pillow and tried not to come immediately.

While Tony's right hand held onto the base of Peter's cock, the other hand went to Peter's hip, finding the bone and worrying the skin that stretched over it with his thumb. His other four fingers stretched down Peter's skin to dig into his ass cheek. They didn't hurt, but there was a good amount of pressure there. He could feel Tony weighing him down as much as possible, trying not to let Peter thrust up as he finally took Peter into his mouth.

The sensations were overwhelming. Peter had been dealing with extra sensory input since he'd been bitten by a spider at age fifteen. For the first year or so, it had felt like no matter what he was doing, his senses were dialed up to eleven. He'd even told Tony that the first time they met in person. And, it was entirely true. Peter could hear, see, smell, taste, and sense things that other people generally couldn't. But the reality was that it was often overwhelming for him to be touched, or to be in loud places, or to even watch a really technicolor movie for too long. Things were just a little extra for him.

Sex tended to be one of those things. And insides of Tony's slick, soft mouth were about as overwhelming as things could get.

Peter reached overhead for something to grasp and only found the wall – he was too poor for a proper headboard, really – and he planted his hands against the smooth paint. His spider-grip helped him cling for dear life as his brain sparked into overdrive. Every muscle in his body, from his fingers, to his shoulders, down his back, his legs, and even in his toes, seemed to be tense in reaction to Tony's blowjob.

Tony's tongue slid devilishly over the nerve-endings just under the head of Peter's dick, and his brain promptly seemed to stop computing anything. He went rigid for a moment, any ability to react appropriately suddenly absent from his repertoire.

Tony's mouth stilled on Peter's cock, as though he expected Peter to come. But Peter wasn't coming – he wasn't doing anything. He was just frozen for a moment, almost in pain from the level of pleasure.

After a long moment, Tony lifted off Peter's swollen member. “Hey. Talk to me, Pete. You were going to communicate with me, remember?”

Tony's voice seemed to nudge Peter back into a space of cognitive function. He realized that he was holding his breath, and he let himself gasp in air. Oxygen rushed to his brain.

“Seriously, are you okay?” Tony demanded.

Peter unstuck one of his hands from the wall and blindly reached down for Tony, whose grip disappeared from Peter's hipbone and instead joined his hand. “Yeah, just...it felt so fucking good, my senses....”

“...Overwhelmed you?” Tony finished.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

Peter opened his eyes. The sun was getting lower in the sky – he could tell by the shadows on the ceiling of his apartment. They had been at it for a long time. Perhaps it would be kinder to let Tony stop, but at the same time, he selfishly wanted to finish. And he wanted to be good for Tony.

“I have an idea,” Peter said determinedly. “Keep holding my hand.”

Tony's fingers squeezed Peter's. “You got it, Pete.”

Then, Tony's mouth was on Peter again. He pressed his head back into the pillow once more and closed his eyes. Instantly, the threat of being overwhelmed was looming over him, just as it had before. But Peter took a deep breath and focused on Tony's hand.

Despite the fact that his muscles were still tight, and his spine was still lighting up with the sheer volume of sensory input, Peter didn't stop thinking about Tony's hand holding his. He thought about the pressure under every fingertip, the way that Tony's knuckles had little coarse hairs on them, the way that his skin was calloused from years of being a mechanic and tinkering away in the lab. It was the hand of an artist, the hand of an entrepreneur. The hand of his lover.

Almost distantly, Peter could feel his breathing getting faster.

The first time that Peter had ever held hands with Tony was on one of the billionaire's private jets. Tony had just taken Peter with him to attend a benefit for MIT, in the interest of networking, despite Peter's insistence on going to Empire State University. (“Just in case you ever decide to transfer or, you know, look into some research opportunities,” Tony had said, to which Peter had responded, “You just want to get me out of the hero business so that you can have the monopoly on it again.”) While they had driven down to the benefit, and Peter had mostly slept on the way, Tony had wanted them to take the jet back to New York.

Unfortunately, Peter was still a little bit afraid of flying.

He'd hoped that he'd get over it after the whole Germany trip, but since he hadn't been on another airplane since, he'd been sorely lacking in practice. As such, the turbulence as they were taking off was not kind to his psyche. Peter found himself huddled up in his seat, trying not to make it obvious that he was trembling with nerves.

It was just his luck that Tony had a knack for noticing that sort of thing, and had been in the seat next to Peter before they got halfway to cruising altitude.

His mentor had started talking to calm him down, and then he'd started picking at a stray thread on Peter's suit sleeve, and then suddenly his big hand was over Peter's and they weren't moving away from each other.

It had been magical.

Now, Peter could feel that same sort of magic, buzzing between their skin, as Peter held onto Tony. In his body, he could feel the pressure building again, and his hips giving in to their desire to roll as Tony's mouth slid up and down Peter's shaft. He even tuned out the breathless noises that he was making as pleasure curled into his pelvis.

Tony's thumb ran over Peter's knuckle soothingly as the electricity of all the sensory input thrummed through Peter's spine. It was getting harder and harder to focus in on Tony's hand, his lifeline. But he could also feel that he didn't need to hold out much longer. He could feel his muscles trembling; his orgasm was bubbling up inside him. In an effort to warn Tony, he made a noise in his throat that ended up sounding far more like a whimper than he intended.

Tony hollowed his cheeks and held Peter's hand like he'd never let go.

Peter had heard orgasms described like waves before, but this wasn't that. This orgasm was like a punch in the gut. Every single one of his muscles tensed up and then began to shudder; his hips jerked as he felt all the electricity he'd been grappling with shoot out of the head of his cock and into Tony's waiting mouth. The only conscious thought he had was that he needed to try very hard not to break Tony's fingers.

Then, it was over. Little spasms quivered through Peter's body as he finally managed to open his eyes and look down at Tony. He nearly passed out when he saw a little bit of his cum shining on Tony's lips.

“How was that?” Tony asked cheekily.

There didn't seem to be any good words to describe it. For all of his talk of communication, he was shit at it. “I...just...really, really good.”

Tony grinned, running his tongue over his lips as he edged his way up Peter's body. The hard length of the billionaire's own desire ran up Peter's hip.

“Fuck, aren't you going to get off?” Peter murmured. It seemed like all the energy had gone out of him.

Tony shrugged. “It's not super important. It'll calm down eventually.”

“Yeah, but – ”

“I was glad to make this about you. Honestly, the hottest experience I've had in a very long time.”

Peter felt color rush up into his face. “Really?”

“Really. Now let me go get a warm washcloth and let's get you cleaned up.”

With ten times more grace than Peter felt like he could ever have, Tony pulled himself up off of Peter and went to the bathroom, his dick jutting out proudly. The second he heard water running in the other room, he scrambled out of bed.

When Tony came back in, washcloth in hand, Peter was kneeling on the floor. Tony's face flushed.

“What...what are you doing?”

“It's your turn. Tell me what you want.”

For a long moment, the two men stared at each other, one a middle-aged billionaire with a lot of baggage, the other an eighteen-year-old college kid with a lot of powers. Then, with a degree of certainty that Peter hadn't quite expected, Tony crossed the floor and knelt down in front of Peter. He locked their hands together.

“You, kid. Just you.”


End file.
